In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.
If money go before, all ways do lie open.
Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe
Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
A young man married is a man that's marred.
The let-alone lies not in your good will.